


Coffee and Dinner

by Ewebie



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 06:31:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ewebie/pseuds/Ewebie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First time away from home... and I can't even get a simple cup of coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee and Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> I saw an image of Martin on Tumblr and decided to write another ficlit about it. It's a young John Watson and the anonymous first person narrator, and I hope you enjoy it. I like the idea of exploring who John might have been before being in the army, before becoming a doctor... Enjoy.  
> ~ ewebie

It was my first time away from home. Ok... not the first time. But the first time being really, _really_ away. And everything seemed unfamiliar. The food was similar but... different. The clothes were just fashionably above my taste that I stuck out like a sore thumb. It'd taken me an hour to figure out how to use a damn oyster card and longer to sort out where I was even going. The streets didn't quite run straight. Car horns were different, and I was hearing those an awful lot, because I kept forgetting to look right before crossing the road. I'm lucky I'm not already dead, and perhaps that was what the cabbies were yelling at me from their windows as they sped past, but damned if I understood them. How can I not even understand English?!

I just wanted to get back to my flat and curl up in a ball and sleep off this jet-lag, but I was starving and the college had a mandatory, early morning meeting. Welcome to London, you small-town Yank. I paused on the street corner and glanced up and down the road... Now where the hell was I?! I threw my arms up and sighed. I headed left... Because why the hell not. It was only a block further (a block? Can it even be called a 'block' here? It was more like a mile!) before I came across a cafe. It was a normal, chain type coffee shop, but certainly not one we had back home, and there were outside tables. I'd been told to take advantage of the good weather.

Fresh cup of coffee and a muffin in hand, I started to wind my way through the tables, heading for an empty seat. I sighed again as I sat. It was nice to be sitting again, in the sun. I had taken an unnecessarily large bite of the muffin top when I noticed him looking at me. He was sitting a few tables away, drinking on his own, cute. And he shot me a half smile. I blushed and looked away, trying to swallow my food quickly. When I glanced back, he smiled again, tipping his glass towards me and raising one brow. I bit back the urge to grin and shrugged, tilting my head toward the other chair at my table. Why the hell not?

Off to my left, a trio of lads jostled each other, pushing and shoving their way down the street. I didn't notice them over the bustle of the city until one of them came crashing into my table. I jumped to my feet as coffee splashed across the table and into my lap. "Oy!" I shouted before I had a chance to stop myself.

The lad stood and brushed himself off, straightening to his full height. Shit. He was probably a few years younger, but nearly a foot taller. He hunched his shoulders forward and glared, "Wot?" He tilted his head leaned in. "Wot you gonna do?"

You're not going to run, I whispered to myself. Only a day in a new country and I'm about to start a fight with a kid... a kid twice my size. I felt the color rising to my cheeks. What would actually define an international incident? If I punched him? What if I just slapped him? If I slapped him, my brother would be ashamed. I heard the slight clink of glass on metal as the guy from across the way set his drink carefully on my table. He cleared his throat, squaring himself with the lad and holding his hands relaxed, down at his waist. The lad's head swiveled on his short neck, "What'd you want?!"

A flurry of movement crossed the guy's face. He his brows raised, his head tilted, his lips pursed, and a slightly feral smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I just want to ensure you apologize to this nice lady."

The lad rounded on him. "You an' wot army?"

I blinked... I will never forgive myself for the minor flinch; for in that moment, the guy moved, and the lad wound up with his arm twisted painfully up behind him and his face pressed firmly into the spilled coffee on the table. The guy glanced up at me, grinned and winked. "You were just about to apologize to this lovely out-of-towner. We don't want her to get the wrong impression of us."

"Alright! Alright! I'm sorry, miss!"

"That's better." The guy let the lad go with a firm smack on the back of the head. "Off with you now." The lad took off at a run. The guy turned back to me. "What was it you were drinking?" After I managed to stammer an answer, he was gone and back with a fresh coffee, a wad of napkins, and a big grin. "Clean table?"

"Thank you," I smiled, relocating myself.

He retrieved his own glass and sat down opposite me. "So, what's a lovely American lass like yourself doing here in London starting fights?"

"I haven't said a word. How did you know I was American?"

He wet his lips with just the tip of his tongue before he smiled, "You've a flag on your bag. No one puts a US flag on their rucksacks except Yanks." I laughed. "John," he said, extending his hand. I shook it and introduced myself in turn. "So," he smiled again, making it hard for me to look away. "You're here studying. First time?"

I nodded, "Clearly, I'm way more of an open book than I thought." I toyed with the now empty cup in front of me. "How bout you? What do you do when you're not... dashing in to save helpless tourists?"

He chuckled, "I'm over studying at Bart's." I shook my head absently and he smiled wryly. "It's a local college." He waved his hand absently. "Not important. What's your plan for dinner?"

"Dinner?" I raised a brow. "If I'm still awake... Uh... Food, I suppose."

"I know a good place... if you're up for it."

How could I resist that smile? How could I resist the offer? He even put his number into my phone when I couldn't remember my own (granted new) phone number. And there was that expression... It was every expression and none all in one. Like he every emotion was clean on his face if you could read it fast enough. So how could I resist an invitation to dinner? ... Dinner.


End file.
